Snare (Delirious book 1) (36 page)

“Exactly what is it that you want from
me
, Miss Carrigan?” he asks, sliding away the hair that has fallen in front of my eyes.

“Nothing,” I snap.

He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “Don’t lie.”

I swallow away the lump in my throat. “I miss … I miss the connection.”

His brows are bristled, close together. “Connection? What connection?”

“With you … your touch. Your hold.” I glower at him for a second, not wanting to admit this, but I know he won’t take anything less. “Even your cock. Yes, I miss it all.”

He shakes his head. “Miss Carrigan … you do not get to decide when I claim you.”

“I know…” I murmur. When I try to touch him, he jerks away. When I confront him with my desire for his love, he looks away. He won’t even look at me. Not once did he gaze at my body since he got into the bath with me. Ever since that day, all he’s done is taken care of me. But I want more—I want to be
his.

Sighing heavily, I jump up from his lap quick enough for him not to catch me.

“Stay here,” he says.

“No. I’m going to my room,” I say, not even looking back.

“Turn. Around. Now!”

I laugh, walking to my room. It is then that he growls and pushes his chair away, rushing after me. Sexual energy bursts from him as he grips my wrist and holds it behind my back, stopping me in my tracks.

“I didn’t say you could go, little fairy. How dare you defy me?”

“I don’t care. If you’re not doing what I want, then I’m not doing what you want.”

“That’s not how this game is played,” he growls, pulling me away from the door. He throws me into the chair. “Now stay there.” The furious look in his eyes is somehow arousing to me. I’ve probably come to associate it with sex, which is disturbing, but more disturbing is the fact that I want more of it.

He opens a drawer and reaches inside, then walks back to me. He throws a package onto my lap and then sits down across from me, leaning back in his chair with his hands on both rests, like a king watching his queen from his thrown.

“Open it,” he growls.

Smashing my lips together, I undo the lace that’s wrapped around it and rip open the paper. In the box is something unusual, unexpected. A camera.

“Congratu-fucking-lations.”

I gasp, opening up the box to take out the brand new camera. It’s the same model I used to have, which is almost too good to be true. Jesus, he bought me a camera for my birthday? I can’t help the huge smile from appearing on my face. I can’t believe he remembered that I loved taking pictures.

“Thank you,” I say, “You don’t know what it means to me.”

“Of course I do. Now are you glad you stayed?”

“Yes, Mister Brand.”

“Good.” He snorts. “You should be happy I still gave you your present after your insolence.”

“I’m sorry, Mister Brand. I just …”

“Shh…” He holds his finger in front of his lips. “I don’t want to hear it,” he snaps. “Now, take a picture.”

I frown, holding the camera in my hand. “Of what?”

“Whatever you want. Just try it out.”

“Okay …” I lift the camera in front of my eyes and focus on a specific point. Of all the things I find interesting, it’s him I want a photograph of. So I click on the button.

What I see in front of me isn’t Sebastian.

It’s a monster, covered in blood.

His hands were seeping in it, his face dark. Men standing behind him, tearing a girl apart.

I scream.

The camera drops from my hand, and I immediately jump up from my seat. The world seems to pass in slow motion, but I know I’m moving quick as lightning as I run to the door, any door, in order to get away.

Something grips me from behind, and I scream in fear.

“Shhh!”

I fight my attacker, pushing and shoving him away, but he is far stronger than I am. Against the door, I breathe shallow breaths, his body shoved against mine.

“Stop,” he says. “Calm down.”

“No!” I yell. The instinct to flee is still strong.

“Stop it.” His voice is familiar, and as he turns me around, I notice it’s Sebastian. The real Sebastian. Not the one covered in blood and ... human remains.

His eyes search mine for answers, while my lungs rapidly expand.

“What’s wrong?” he says.

“The camera,” I say. “I saw them.”

“Saw what?”

“The men who killed my mother!”

He pulls me close, enwrapping me in his arms. My face is against his chest, smelling his familiar scent to calm myself down. What I saw terrified me so much that a certain impulse to run took over.

Suddenly, a cold, hard metal is placed around my wrist. A hard jerk forces my arms into my position behind my back. There, they are cuffed together. My eyes widen as I look up at Sebastian.

“Oh, my dear little fairy … I guess it is time for your next gift.”

“What?” I say as he twists me in his arms and guides me out of the door. “Where are we going?”

“You think you can just do whatever you want? You know I’m the one in charge. You. Can’t. Leave.”

“I wasn’t, I just …”

“You were afraid …” he hums, almost as if amused by my fear.

“Yes.”

“Good.” The way he says it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Then what comes next will surely make you scream even louder.”

Accompanying Song:
“Angel” by Massive Attack

Providence, Rhode Island – May 24
th
, 2013

Sebastian guides me through the hallways of his building, down the corridors that contain the rooms. Each room we pass makes my heart jump; wondering if that’s the one we’re going into. But he keeps walking, keeps pushing me ahead. The cuffs that hold my wrists together hurt, but I don’t let him know. I didn’t want to come here again after what happened last time, but he refused to take no for an answer. The moment I stood my ground and said ‘no’, something snapped in him. A familiar sparkle glinted in his eyes; a devious smirk appeared on his face. Before I knew it, he had me locked down between his arms, had cuffed me, and was dragging me off. I don’t fear the impending pain. In essence, I actually feel more safe with him now that he’s taken me.

When I had tried to walk to my room and he had thrown me back into my chair, I knew it was exactly what I was looking for. His anger. I was inciting it. At the time, I felt the need to defy him simply because I could. To get a rise out of him. To feel a slice of power and have it stripped away from me within seconds.

It is what I crave, to relinquish control. To not have to think about what I should do, or where I should go, or how to respond. To let go of everything.

He needs control. To claim and take what belongs to him, to exercise his will on something. It’s something he desires and can only get from me.

In that way, I am the perfect counterbalance. If I stop fighting him, he will stop controlling me, and we both lose what we desire the most. Since I’ve realized this, the choice is simple. Fight him and I get to lose control. Surrender and he gets to dominate. We both get what we want.

However, after being taken on that whirring trip where I remembered what happened to my mom, I’ve been slowly falling more and more for his charm. Resisting has become less important. But it also means I take away the opportunity for him to dominate me, which has made him listless. He hasn’t touched me in so long, hasn’t tried to fuck me in such a long time, that I have started missing it. I admit it’s so wrong. But at the same time, I want him to fuck me—to give me an ounce of love, if only through his fucking.

If fighting him is all it takes to achieve that, then I’ll gladly participate.

So, I let him take me to the rooms, to the place I fear.

I struggle in my bonds, scowl when needed, purse my lips, and blow out a hotheaded breath like I’m supposed to. When his hand comes down on my ass, I squeal but smile on the inside.

“Keep on walking,” he growls.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Doesn’t concern you.”

As I look back, I notice the camera in his hand. I wonder what he’s planning.

He stops in front of the door and pulls on my cuffs to keep me in place. “In.” His command almost tempts me to resist him just to see what would happen. I step inside the room and notice the label on the door.
Dungeon.

Holy hell.

The walls are cement blocks piled up and torches hang from them. On each side is a table with various equipment, including rope, plugs, toys, scissors, leather bondage items, floggers, paddles, canes, and more cuffs in all shapes and sizes. There is a metal cage to the left and a rack to the right. Hooks hang from the ceiling.

Taking in the scenery, I step forward and shiver from the props. It’s like I’ve just walked in on a prison movie set, only one where they make people suffer through shame and humiliation.

Sebastian comes to stand in front of me. My eyes zoom in on his hand as it fishes a knife from his pocket. He holds it in front of my face. “See this?”

I nod. He moves it to my neck. I whimper from the cold metal pushed into my skin.

“This is your punishment for behaving so badly.”

“I’m sorry, Mister Brand.”

“Don’t. I didn’t say you could open your mouth, let alone speak.”

I close my mouth immediately. He then proceeds to slide the knife down my throat without it bleeding, making me achingly aware of the power it has over me.

“You’ll do as I say. Always.”

I nod, but don’t respond, as he wishes.

“I’m tired of your constant need to overthrow me. You seem to think you know what you want. I beg to differ, and I will show you today.” He smiles as he brings the knife down to the straps that keep my dress intact and cuts them both, ripping down my dress.

“Take it off,” he says.

I do as he says, peeling the dress off me until I’m in my panties.

He frowns, squinting. “Panties …”

“I wanted … to wear them,” I say.

“Miss Carrigan, just because it is your birthday doesn’t mean you can decide what happens.” He pushes the knife into my skin and cuts the material until it falls to the ground by itself. I scowl at him, angry that he’s torn apart my only way to express myself.

“Do you hate me now, Miss Carrigan?”

“I’m starting to. You ruined my only pair.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be wearing them. Ever.” He suddenly grips my pussy, cupping it with his hand. “Whose pussy is this?”

I gasp. “Yours, Mister Brand.”

He slaps my inner thigh, causing me to spread my legs, but he only does it so he can grab me tighter, deeper, delving his finger into my pussy. “Say that again.”

“My pussy is yours, Mister Brand.”

“Yes, and anything that stands between me and
my pussy
is
not
allowed.”